


Don't Let Go

by Clefaiiiry



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Canon Nonbinary Character, Dysphoria, Hurt/Comfort, I don't even know what to tag this honestly my brain is fried, Other, Temporary Character Death, Trans Male Character, whoops i'm projecting again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 04:25:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17953559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clefaiiiry/pseuds/Clefaiiiry
Summary: Bloodhound is not one to hesitate.





	Don't Let Go

The Allfather had blessed them with Elliott Witt, as sweet as he was foolish.

He had worn down their defences so thoroughly that they didn’t even flinch anymore when he snuck up behind them for a quick hug or a peck to their mask. They listened so intently to his ramblings, how could they not when he spoke with such passion and vigour? He was the only person who had ever seen them without every layer they protected themself with, seen them so vulnerable and exposed.

Their mission had once been to hunt until the gods allowed them to die, but the gods had smiled down upon them and granted them an idiot with bizarre hair and the goofiest smirk they had ever seen.

But they cherished him and every moment they spent together.

They should have seen it coming. They both still participated in the Apex Games, hoping that another squad would take them out before they would face each other. It had been a perfect strategy until it wasn’t.

Bloodhound finished off the last of the enemy squad, reloading as the announcement rang out above them.

_Two squads remaining._

The banners above them showed Wraith, Pathfinder, and Mirage, all standing strong for their PR shoots. Wraith had been on fire for the entire match and she would never abandon a teammate, so it was inevitable that they would make it to the top three.

“Let’s head this way,” Bangalore said, pinging towards the east on her map.

Caustic wasted no time as he pushed forwards. The Cascades were always dangerous for any squad that didn’t have the high ground. They took the zipline up to the Northern Watchtower and found a safe perch for Bangalore to patch herself up.

“They’re right there,” Caustic said, pinging a small wooden house by the edge of the river. Pathfinder poked his head out from cover, only for a moment, but the shine of the sunlight against his metal was much too obvious.

“I will take care of the kill leader,” Bloodhound said, more to themself than either of their teammates. Bangalore gave them a look, but thankfully didn’t question them.

“Rolling Thunder is ready if you wanna do that weird eye thing,” she said. Bloodhound called upon their power as they leapt to the river below. Bangalore threw out her flare as she dropped after them.

Pathfinder was caught out almost instantly. Bangalore’s shots found their mark and the robot fell down, no doubt pinging their location to Wraith and Mirage. He crawled back into the hut as Bloodhound and Bangalore sprinted closer. An arcstar came flying out and caught Bangalore’s arm. The explosion left their ears ringing when shots rang out from the shattered window.

The little hut suddenly erupted in yellow smoke. Two figures emerged from the far side, falling to the ground and coughing violently. One shot to her feet much faster than the other.

Wraith spotted Bloodhound and took her Wingman from her belt. She landed two clean shots into their side, but it wasn’t enough to stop their charge. She cursed, swapping out to her EVA as Bloodhound opened fire.

Then Mirage jumped into their line of fire and for the first time in their life, Bloodhound hesitated.

Bangalore didn’t. She fired. Mirage stumbled for a minute, then the image flickered and vanished. A decoy.

“The real one went this way!” she yelled.

Bloodhound turned and fired two shots. Both hit their mark and the real Mirage stumbled, but kept running. Then, he cloaked, his decoys fanning out to take his place.

A frag landed at Hound’s feet. Bangalore took the worst of it, but the blast disorientated Bloodhound for a moment.

They rolled backwards. Wraith followed, trigger happy. A shot ripped through their arm and they fell to the ground. Wraith landed above them.

“You should’ve paid more attention,” she said and pulled the-

**BANG!**

_The kill leader has been eliminated._

Wraith slumped into the river, blood seeping into the water. Bloodhound was hauled to their feet before they could even process the look on her face.

“The kill leader has been taken care of,” Caustic said, stopping to reload his peacekeeper, “only one left. You better track him down.”

Bloodhound only nodded. Bangalore had to stop to heal her wounds while Caustic hung back to ‘ensure their teammate wouldn’t return for their banners.’ A load of shit, but Bloodhound didn’t feel like arguing.

It wasn’t hard to follow El- Mirage’s tracks; even to the untrained eye it was obvious which way he had ran. The wound was fatal, but it would be a slow, painful death. They couldn’t allow that.

The trail led them to the alcove below the Watchtower, and there, tucked between a stack of boxes and the wall, was Mirage. He clutched his side, attempting to use a med kit. He’s always been fussy about the needles. He froze as soon as he heard the footsteps.

“Guess I lose, huh?” he joked. He told a lot of jokes. Bloodhound usually laughed. They didn’t feel like laughing right now.

Bloodhound dropped their gun to the ground and knelt before him. “Elliott-”

“Hey, we agreed no real names in the arena,” Elliott said with lopsided grin. It looked wrong on his face.

Bloodhound nodded. They took their knife from their belt and tried not to pay too much attention to how Elliott tensed.

“I’m just happy it’s not you and that stinky bastard,” Elliott laughed, but the sound broke into a wheezing cough.

Bloodhound stared at him. “How can you say that?” they said, “You think this is easy for me? That I want to hurt you?”

“Hey, hey, no, I don’t think that at all, look at me.”

Bloodhound couldn’t, not until he forced them to. He took their chin and smiled. They didn’t deserve that smile, not with what they were about to do to him.

Then they did something terribly selfish; they pulled their mask up, just over their mouth, and kissed him. Elliott kissed back, making a sound akin to a whimper. It was chaste, far too brief, but necessary. Their eyes were damp when they pulled away, but no one would ever have to know.

Behind them, heavy footsteps grew closer. Caustic and Bangalore would be here soon and would not be so merciful. Elliott pulled their mask back into place and took their hand, holding it tight. Hound sniffed and held their knife over Elliott’s heart.

“I love you,” he said.

Bloodhound didn’t meet his eyes as they pushed in the blade.

 

* * *

 

 

The press had an absolute field day with that one.

Bloodhound was notorious for keeping every detail about themself away from prying eyes. Secretive and anonymous was popular with their sponsors; they had been sold a faceless, ruthless hunter. Turns out the public craved romantic dramas.

_“The ever enchanting tale of star-crossed lovers! The people will eat it up!”_

Their tale wasn’t _for_ the public, but they had no one but themself to blame after that performance.

After the med bay finished fixing them up, Bloodhound headed back through the Apex Facility. They knew the press would be waiting once they left the private sector, but it still made them jolt when a pack of reporters pouched as soon as the door slid open.

“What is the nature of your relationship with Mirage?”

“Will the connection between the two of you affect your match performance?”

“Is it true the two of you have engaged in-”

“Let me through. I won’t answer any questions,” Bloodhound said. Their mask was a blessing, they could hide a wavering voice, but not the tears burning in their eyes.

But the questions kept coming until they escaped into the Lounge. Only Legends and those who they had permitted could pass through, though many an eager reporter had tried their damnedest. The moment the doors closed, Bloodhound dropped their face into their hands and groaned.

“You look like you need a drink.”

They glanced up. Wraith stood several feet away, a combination of her own reluctance to get close and her respecting their own personal space.

“I don’t drink,” Bloodhound said. She shrugged.

“Whatever you need, Elliott is with Makoa. He was waiting for you.”

As they passed her, she raised a hand to stop them.

“By the way, we’re having a real one-on-one at some point. Without any outside interference.”

Bloodhound chuckled, despite the strain. “I look forward to it.”

Everyone else had headed home, it seemed. Those who had no other place to go, like Wraith and Pathfinder, stayed in accommodation provided by the facility, but most others had families or friends to stay with. Bloodhound used to return to their own place, but rarely seemed to head that way anymore.

Makoa should’ve been home with his husband by now, but he had likely seen everything in the broadcast and was sticking around until he was certain everything was okay. Bloodhound would have to thank him later.

They found them at the bar. Empty save for two seats. Elliott had made their drinks, both glasses almost finished. Makoa spotted Bloodhound as soon as they stepped in and waved them over.

“Ah, see! I told you they wouldn’t be much longer.”

Bloodhound decided they didn’t want to see his expression when he turned. They just crossed the room before they could talk themself out of it and hugged him from behind. They pressed their face into his back, hands coming up to his chest.

“Hey, thought you’d be kinda tense, lemme shift,” Elliott said as he wriggled in their grip to face them and return the hug properly, “hey Houndie, how’re ya holding up?”

They said nothing, only held him tighter. They vaguely heard Makoa laugh.

“I’ll give you two some privacy, eh?”

Elliott and Makoa exchanged goodbyes as they finished their drinks. They didn’t process any of the rest of their conversation until Elliott finally pulled back.

“You ready to go home?”

“There’s many reporters outside,” they said.

Elliott grinned, booting up his holo-tech. “Ain’t it lucky that I have the perfect distraction?”

 

* * *

 

 

Even when safe and sound in Elliott’s apartment, Hound couldn’t settle.

They shed their layers, their mask, laid bare for only a few moments before they pulled on the baggy nightwear that hid their true shape. The form given was not who they were. The Allfather had given them the tools to hide it, to redefine themself as they wished to be seen, but there was little they could do to directly alter their physical form without causing themself harm.

Elliott peppered kisses across their cheeks and brought them to bed, letting them hog all the blankets. Usually he would wrestle for them, but tonight was different. He kept checking if they were comfortable; endearing if a little excessive. He dozed off rather quickly, likely worn down from the games.

Hound didn’t sleep. Couldn't. Every time they closed their eyes, they could only see blood. So much blood. Elliott’s expression twisted into pained, fearful, betrayed. Their stomach bobbed and grumbled. Nausea threatened to rise in their throat.

It was pathetic, really. The most skilled hunter in The Outlands rattled by a little blood because it came from the wrong prey. The gods must’ve been disgusted with them.

Hound rolled onto their side and watched Elliott’s peaceful face. He drooled in his sleep, and usually snored to back it up. Tonight, he was quiet, but there was the familiar damp patch under his mouth.

The gods had made a mistake in allowing them to grow so close to a mortal man. Hound would gladly give up everything the Allfather had blessed them with just so Elliott could smile.

They reached forward to brush a hand across his cheek. Elliott twitched in his sleep and muttered something incomprehensible.

It was so disgustingly self-centred, but they needed to feel him, just to confirm he was really still with them. They shook him softly. Elliott only grumbled, face tightening but not moving otherwise.

“Elliott,” they whispered, shaking him a little firmer. He jolted awake.

“What- Oh, hey.” He rubbed his eyes with a groggy chuckle. “What time is it?”

Hound stared at him. How could he look at them like that after what they had done? Their eyes burned.

“Hey, Houndie, you okay- Woah, okay, hug time!”

Hound buried their face in his chest, tracing the scars under his pecs, breathing in his scent, anchoring themself to reality. _They wouldn’t cry, they wouldn’t-_

Elliott stroked their hair and rested his chin on their head. “Hey, don’t worry, I’m here.”

“Don’t let go,” Hound whimpered, curling into his side, “please.”

Elliott bundled his arms around their chest, pressing kiss after kiss across their face, blessing every inch, dip, and scar. Hound pushed further like a greedy rat, tangling their legs, pulling so impossibly close that they might merge into one.

“I’m not going anywhere, I got you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”

“Sorry for what?” Elliott squeezed them tighter. They felt like they were going to burst but they needed more.

“I… I killed you.”

Elliott frowned for a moment until everything fell into place. “Oh, Hound… I knew it’d eat at you. Anything that happens in the arena stays in the arena. I- You told me that.”

“I know,” they said, “I know, I’m overreacting, but-”

Elliott shook his head. “You know the first time I was in the arena, I ended up killing Pathfinder. I cried like a baby but as soon as I saw him all okay outside it sorta clicked. It’s like acting, ya know? It’s rough, but until we have other options it’s what’s we gotta do, right?”

Hound traced a hand over his heart. There wasn’t a mark to be seen, no hole, no scar, it was like it has never happened at all.

“What can I do to help you feel better?”

Hound pressed a kiss to his chin. “Just... lay with me for a while?”

The smile that spread over his features was tired, but so genuine that their heart ached.

“It would be my pl- ple-” He huffed. “I’d love to, that’d be great, yeah.”

This time when Hound closed their eyes, they saw nothing. They only felt the warm security of the arms around them and his steady heartbeat.

“When we get enough money, we could go on a trip all ‘round Solace. You ever been to Solace? It’s actually pretty neat, I think you’d like it.”

They knew that, as Elliott continued his ramblings until they finally fell into a dreamless sleep, they would be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> you know when you have an idea and you just rapid write to get it out before the idea dies? yeah mood.
> 
> inspired by something i sent to the discord because angst fuels me but hurt/comfort fuels me even more.
> 
> Elliott is trans, sorry, can't hear you over the sound of Elliott Witt being trans. *shrug emoji*
> 
> can any of y'all spot the league quote because it ended up in there by accident and i only realised it was there when proof-reading.
> 
> uuuurh *waves hands at fic* i got nothing just take it
> 
> Inspired in part by: everyone is better than me, i think || miragehound by dxntdxdrxgs  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/17902973


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